


Bone Tired

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Brief Damian cameo, Bruce is a good dad, Comfort, Cuddles, Dick needs hugs, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, No editing we die like mne, Platonic Bed Sharing, graphic descriptions of cuddling, slight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 02:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12949308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Life gets everyone tired, even Dick Grayson. When that happens all you want is someone close. Good for Dick that Bruce knows exactly how to help his son.





	Bone Tired

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CamsthiSky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamsthiSky/gifts).



> Cam said that Dick needs more hugs. I agreed. This...technically has a hug

It wasn’t that patrol had been hard. Or that he’d had one of those weeks that felt like it stretched into a month, a year, and forever. Scooping a half conscious Damian in his arms and hauling him to bed would never get old. Not when he got to do it so rarely.

But. Dick was tired. There was no getting around the exhaustion in his body. Even as he leaned over Damian to plant a kiss on the boy’s sleepy head, he was thinking of his own bed. 

“Night, Grayson.” 

“Goodnight Little D. Sleep well.” he said, slipping out of the room. 

He could. Should. Make a direct line for his room. No shower. Barely change clothes, maybe just pulling his shirt off, and collapse into bed. And while the tired radiating through him called for that very move (Maybe less. Maybe he could sleep on the floor right here) his feet took him down the hall, then the stairs, and left him standing directionless in the hall. 

He was tired. So tired. Tired beyond sleep he realized. He wasn’t sleepy, he just, he didn’t know. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t sure if he should turn around to toss in his bed, or keep going forward to the kitchen to fill the exhaustion with something from the fridge. Maybe he could turn down the hall and make his way back into the cave, back to where Bruce was sure to still be working. Maybe he could work the world weariness out of his bones by punching or twisting, or working his muscles against Bruce’s. Maybe he could-

“You get Damian to bed without a fight?” 

Dick’s eyes focused. Hall to the left. Cave exit. Bruce. 

“For once.” he joked. 

Honestly Damian had only gotten better about going to sleep. Dick didn’t know if it was him, his influence, or his brother finally settling into things, but the child was rarely in need of wrangling after a successful patrol. 

Bruce’s mouth quirked in a grin, “You’re good with him.”

_ You could be too.  _ Dick didn’t say. It was the tired talking. Bruce was good with Damian. He was good with them all. He was simply good in a way that was different from how Dick did it. Or from how Alfred did it. He had a way all his own. Not that Dick could convince Bruce of that. 

“You done for the night?” he said, instead.

Bruce nodded. Made to move and stopped. He looked Dick over once, twice. 

“Sandwitches?” he suggested, and all of a sudden Dick was famished. 

Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone. 

“Yeah.” 

They didn’t say anything. Dick pulled out two water bottles and Bruce got the tray of sandwiches out of the fridge. Both smiled at Alfred’s note to eat and then straight to bed before tucking into the stack. 

Dick ate too much. But wasn’t it like that at night, when it was late, and there were other cares beyond calories at the wrong time of day? The food was good, and filled a part of his exhaustion. Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was the act of eating. The weight of food in his stomach. Doing it with someone else. It was normalizing. Maybe that’s what filled some of the exhaustion and made him feel a little more human.

Dick hated feeling this way. Lingering on exhaustion when he was usually the opposite. Hated it even more when he felt this way around people. He’d put up a mask all night over his domino and he’d hoped patrol would make the feeling go away. 

Now he didn’t bother with small talk, simply let comfortable silence rest between he and Bruce. At least the time of night meant he could get away with being less talkative. It could easily be blamed on actual tiredness. Not Dick’s strange affliction. 

They cleaned the meager mess they’d made and Dick found himself following Bruce upstairs. He didn’t want to veer to his room. To leave the comfort that was being close to his dad. He wished he were ten again and could hop on Bruce’s back, and insist on sleeping together.  _ A slumber party, B. It’ll be fun. _ He’d grin. All the while savoring the feel of his arms around his dad’s neck. The solid knowledge the man was there. That Dick was more than a pool of tired nerves and foggy mind. 

When had he lost the ability to reach out to his dad for comfort? He wasn’t angry anymore. They weren’t divided. Not like they’d been. But. Dick’s hand stilled at his side, fingers curling into his palm. He wanted to laugh. He was acting like Damian. Trying to be strong so his dad would be proud of him. What had he told his baby brother time and again? It’s okay. It’s fine to need help. To want it. To seek comfort. 

Dick had never been good at listening to Batman’s advice. Even when he had been Batman.

They were at his room. All he wanted was to keep moving. Pushing to Bruce’s. They both stopped. Bruce considered the door. Then Bruce considered him. 

“You’re tired.” 

“It’s four am.” 

“Not that kind of tired.” 

Dick sighed. “Yeah.” 

Bruce stepped forward, threw and arm over his shoulder. Dick leaned in immediately. He wasn’t going to waste this moment no matter what came next. He wanted to hold onto the feeling of being close. Being tucked into his dad’s side.  

“Slumber party?” he suggested, and Dick felt his world lift a bit. “We could even pull Damian from his bed.” 

“He’s already out. Neither of us want to deal with a grumpy ten year old for the sake of adding another to the party.” Dick said, hand reaching up to tangle in Bruce’s fingers dripping over his shoulder. 

His dad nodded, “He might still be grumpy in the morning if he finds out he was left out.” 

Dick shrugged, as they started walking toward Bruce’s room together. “That’s an easy fix. We just drag him in and sleep even longer.” 

Bruce chuckled, “You really are good with him.” 

“So’re you.” Dick yawned. 

He fell into Bruce’s bed before it’s owner did. He snuggled in, warming the blankets with body heat, while Bruce took time to pull on pajamas. 

The moment his dad slipped under the covers Dick didn’t waste time scooting close. He never minded being the first to cuddle up. Bruce did it when he needed to. When Dick was scared. Or hurt. Or drugged. Dick closed the distance the rest of the time. When it was Bruce who needed comfort. Or when they both did. Sometimes when they’d really had sleepovers. 

This time, when Dick moved, Bruce reached out and tugged him close. 

Dick tucked himself against his dad. No matter how big he got, he always fit with Bruce. He curled close, head resting on Bruce’s chest, hand splayed across the soft fabric of his shirt so he could feel the steady beating of his dad’s heart, the other tucked under the pillow.

Bruce had a heavy arm over him, holding him close, the other cupping the back of his head, fingers teasing out tangles. 

“Tell me next time.” Bruce said.

“Mmkay.” Dick agreed, his eyes finally heavy. 

He was tired physically at last. Happy with food in him, and his dad close by. He hoped he woke up rejuvenated. If he didn’t (and it wasn’t likely) he had Bruce right here. Probably Damian soon after that. 

There was a small huff from Bruce that said he didn’t believe Dick. 

“I promise.” He said. 

Bruce hummed acceptance, his fingers still massaging Dick’s scalp.


End file.
